All roads lead to Ankh-Morpork
by mirrorballsymphony
Summary: Inspired by Angua's line in Men at Arms - "It'll end up just like it did in Pseudopolis and Quirm and—". Angua's journey to Ankh-Morpork
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by a line in Men At Arms - "It'll end up just like it did in Pseudopolis and Quirm and—"**

**So, what did happen in Pseudopolis and Quirm and everywhere else for Angua? Angua's journey to Ankh-Morpork**

* * *

Being human made it so much easier to carry things.

Angua von Uberwald walked across the grass, her few belongings - a change of clothes, some food, a bag full of coins and a bottle of mouthwash - in a bag on her back. Her boots chafed at her feet and were slowly letting the water from the grass through, but it wouldn't make her turn back.

She quickly walked through the fields until she came to a dirt path, and sat down on a helpful stone*, pulling a bottle of water out of the bag. Slurping it, she looked back to where she had come from.

*There's always one.

She had been walking for a couple of days, and was already a fair distance away from her home. Well, in vertical terms she was far away. In horizontal terms she was about a mile away, and could still see the smoke rising from the chimneys of the manor.

She doubted her mother and father would come to find her. They were running after Andrei in the opposite direction, far away from her. He had fled, and she had ran at the same time. It was all about who was more important, and she could guess who was more important to her parents. How could they possibly choose between the son who could contaminate the line, or the girl who had just kept quiet, biding her time, staying at the back of the hunt? They barely noticed her. They had never wanted to.

Angua sighed and wiped her mouth, staring back at the manor. She could run as a wolf, but that would be defeating the point slightly.

She stood up, wincing at the pain in her feet, and managed to start herself walking again. Over the past couple of days she had formulated a walking style which meant she could keep going for hours, just gently swinging her right leg so that the rest of her body had to follow. The hard thing was getting the pace back after she had stopped, and the pain in her feet wasn't helping. Still, she resolutely carried on, determined not to change. She didn't need to be reminded of that.

She settled into the walk, and her mind drifted off.

_The hunt._

_They ran across the fields, through the woods, into the forest, never stopping. Just flooding the area with a silent, malignant force, which made people who had never done anything wrong cower in their beds and block their doors. Innocence didn't matter to the hunt._

_Her father in front, closely followed by her mother who would snap at his heels if he grew reluctant and thought about turning back.  
Wolfgang close to her mother, frothing at the bit, willing for the taste of blood. Human blood. Because he hadn't relinquished his thirst by killing Elsa; she was just the tip of the iceberg. Poor, sweet Elsa, who would stay at home during the hunt, unable to keep up, but perfectly able to glare at Angua when she got back. As if Angua had done something wrong, like she could have stopped what she was doing. Elsa didn't understand._

_Andrei did. He would stay back with Angua, who would trail at the back of the pack, praying that she wouldn't have to taste the blood, because vomiting it back up was never enough. Andrei was sickened at himself, but he was never as able as her to try to get rid of it. He would grimace and swallow it down, regretting every taste, but never able to throw it back up._

_Angua would hang around at the back, turning away at the sound of the screaming. She had never been able to bring herself to kill anybody; she couldn't stand their faces, their innocent faces. Sometimes they were children, lost after dark, but age didn't matter to the hunt._

_No one deserved that sort of death. Nobody_.

'Wolf!' Serafine shouted. 'Wolf!'

There was no reply.

Serafine stormed through the house, slamming doors open and shouting for Wolfgang. Finally, she reached his bedroom.

Oh, Delphine was good.

Wolfgang was lying on his bed, tied up with what looked like strips of one of Delphine's dresses. He was sound asleep.

She walked over to him and shook him viciously. 'Wolfgang!'

Blearily, he opened one eye. 'Huh?'

She slapped him round the face to try and wake him up. 'Where is she?'

'Who?'

'Delphine! Who else?'

'Isn't she here? In her room, or something.'

'I can't find her. And a couple of her dresses have gone, and a bag.'

'Well, she wouldn't have gone out hunting.' Wolfgang looked down at himself. 'Huh. A nice touch.'

'That stupid girl.'

'No, Mother. Far too clever for her own good.'

'But sometimes that manifests itself as stupidity.'

Wolf had managed to chew some of the bindings off his wrists. 'She picked the right time.'

'You should have been watching her!'

Wolfgang threw his arms up in the air. 'I do have better things to do!'

'What, than make sure your sister doesn't run away?'

Guye walked into the room, and Serafine span round, hitting him round the face.

'Bad?' he asked.

'Where is she?'

'Who?'

'Delphine! Oh, don't look at me like that, I know you know.'

'How would I know?' the Baron asked, perplexed.

Serafine wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'Oh, she was always your favourite, wasn't she? You'd do anything to protect that worthless girl!'

'Mother, why do you care?' Wolfgang asked. 'It's not like we could get her back. Anyway, she'll probably die out there.'

Serafine glared at him. She had to admit, Delphine had always been the brains of the litter.

'We are werewolves, Wolfgang. Quite hard to kill.'

'But not impossible. And anyway, where would she go?'

'Well, looking from the money she's taken, Ankh-Morpork.'

'Their dollars can be spent anywhere, though,' Guye said.

'Oh, for gods sakes!' Serafine threw herself down onto a chair and grabbed a bottle which was lying on the side. She sniffed it, and waved it at her son. 'She drugged you. Sleeping powder, it smells like. How didn't you know?'

'Well, you know...'

'Out hunting again, eh? I've told you, too much time changed isn't good for you.' She gestured at the Baron, who was trying to scratch his ear with his foot. 'Look at him!'

'Listen, that isn't important, Mother. What is important is that both Delphine and Andrei ran at the same time.'

'They were planning it?'

'I don't doubt it. They've always been close.'

'Oh, yes. The wolf and the vegetarian.'

'The wolf who wouldn't eat human meat, and the werewolf who wouldn't,' Wolfgang corrected her.

Serafine stared out of the window. 'Well, we won't be seeing them again.'


	2. Chapter 2

Angua was shaken awake by the cold at about two in the morning. She lay on the blanket, staring up at the sky.

It was an oppressive darkness, the sort that surrounded you, compressed you, made you want to gasp for air. It was darkness with texture, and intertwined itself with the freezing air. She sat up and hugged her knees, trying to make herself a little warmer.

She hated sleeping as a wolf, so, when the full moon wasn't laughing down at her, she tried not to. It would have made her so much warmer, though.

Sighing, she stood up and packed her stuff away. After washing her face with the bottle of water, she carried on walking.

She hadn't got far before she saw someone else walking. Two people, in fact. She moved a little closer to the trees, and watched them from the cover of darkness.

One of them, a man, she could smell it, had his hand on the woman's shoulder. Angua could just see the moonlight reflecting off his breastplate.

_Bloody soldiers,_ she thought.

The woman was trying to turn away, but he had her pinned gently to the tree. Angua could smell the fear pouring off her.

Slowly, she moved forward.

The man had lowered his hand, and the woman was trying to push him off. She raised her knee as if to kick him, but he forced her down to the floor.

Angua leapt.

The man was knocked over by the full force of the wolf and she pinned him down to the floor. She shook her head, trying to stop the smell of his blood reaching her nostrils.

She bit him, once, trying not to breathe in. The woman started screaming.

Then the man was struggling, and she closed her eyes and leant down and...

...the woman had her arm around Angua's neck and was pulling her off. It wasn't that she was especially strong, it was that the cloud of desperation that the woman was emitting had made Angua's head go fuzzy and her muscles relax and then, then she saw the knife.

She changed, and the woman screamed again.

'Stop!' she told her.

The man reached round slowly and grabbed Angua round the waist. Her head spinning, he dragged her off of him, and pressed an arm against her neck.

The woman's cloud of desperation had gone. She had run away. Angua wished she could.

'What the hell are you?' he hissed into her face. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

There was only one thing for it. She kneed him in the place she knew from fighting Wolfgang would really hurt, and he collapsed on top of her with a groan. She drew on the last of her strength and pushed him off her, wincing as her arms protested against his dead weight.

As soon as she was free she rolled away, grabbing her torn dress as she leapt up. But he was running towards her, so she thrust out a fist, hitting him underneath the chin. But then he was up again, and sprinting towards her.

She changed, and grabbed her bag from where she had left it. No one could outrun a wolf.

This man didn't even try. He just screamed something after her, a garbled mix of cursing and swearing.

She was five miles away, at least, before she stopped running. Tears pouring down her face, she pulled on a dress and sat down on the grass.

The sun was just starting to rise. She wiped her forehead and stared at the fire on the horizon.

_There had been a riot once. In the village, some people had become dissatisfied with the way that they were being used as the werewolves' private fridge. It hadn't lasted long. But whenever she saw that fire on the skyline, it reminded her of that._

_They had lit bonfires, and torches. En masse, men carrying fire had approached the castle and stood outside it, screaming abuse at the walls._

_Angua had hidden under her bed. It seemed like the safest place to be, and she didn't think anyone would find her._

_She was wrong._

_Her mother had reached a hand under the bed and dragged her out by the collar. Angua had just stayed still, knowing it was futile to lash out._

_'Why aren't you helping?' her mother growled._

_'What could I do?' Angua asked. It was true, what could a ten year old girl do against a mob, regardless of her species._

_Her mother had hit her, and Angua could remember the sting even now. 'You coward!'_

_Angua had raised her head and just looked at her mother silently._

_There was an ominous groan as the heavy oak doors began to creak under the pressure. Her mother sprinted downstairs_, _changing as she went._

_Angua had taken the opportunity to run up to the attic and watch from up there. It was her and Andrei's secret; no one else knew about it, and although Andrei had a bit of trouble with the stairs they still went up there._

_She had watched the carnage, and, as she watched, she felt a tiny bit of their pain pierce her heart and freeze it._

_The whole pack surrounded the poor, luckless men, who fell silent._

_There was no sound but the crackling of the flames._

_Then, her mother barked. They leapt._

_Angua had turned away, but could never forget their screams. But what was most worrying was her mother's shout of triumph after the ground was flooded with blood. Bright red, streaming down towards the village, it looked like flames._


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't have a door. You just...gravitated towards it.

There's one in every town. It's where the down-and-outs, the drunks, the depressed, the people who are just out of place go and drink their sorrows away.

And now Angua worked there.

It had been an...odd interview. For one thing, it was one of the first times she had ever spoken Quirmian to another Quirmian person. She'd been learning it for over a year, of course, but actually speaking it was something different.

The manager kissed both her cheeks and she stepped back hurriedly as he laughed. 'Do not be afraid. It is simply customary here.'

Well, they never told you that in the books.

He gestured for her to sit down and glanced at a piece of paper in front of him. 'As you have probably guessed by now, we find it safer not to enquire as to our employees' pasts. Simply being able to find the place gives us some indication as to why you are here.'

His voice was clipped and precise, each word enunciated carefully. Running away from something, Angua guessed.

'Do you have any experience working behind a bar?'

'Not especially, although I regularly serve drinks on occasions.'

'And is your knowledge of beverages sufficient to work in a bar?'

'Yes. I'm fairly sure of that.'

'And you are understanding of others' problems?'

'Yes.'

He shook her hand. 'You have received the job.'

Angua simply stared at him. 'Are you sure?' she said, mistakenly slipping into Morporkian. It was the language she found easiest.

He laughed. 'Of course,' he said cheerfully, slipping back into Quirmian. 'For the one thing, you are the only applicant.'

For the one thing, Angua noted.

'You will begin work at eleven tonight,' he told her, standing up. 'I hope there is no reason why you cannot work nights.'

Angua swallowed. 'None at all.'

He moved slightly closer to her and she could smell the overwhelming odour of cheap aftershave. 'Excellent,' he said, smiling down at her.

* * *

_Do you have experience in alcohol?_

Well, she wasn't going to lie and say no. At the same time, she didn't want to say yes.

Yes, she had used alcohol in the past as a pain reliever. It isn't hard in a mansion to find a room that no one else knows about, even in a house full of werewolves, where you could try all of the oddly colourless liqueurs until your head swam and the pain vanished for a brief second.

It hadn't worked. That's all she wanted to remember.

* * *

This...pub? Bar? Who knows what it was. It was dingy and damp, with narrow, grimy windows that let only enough light in to check that your drink was what you ordered. The straw on the floor was damp and rotting with spilt beer and spit, and Angua could smell the rats from a mile away.

She was on her own at the bar as the vampire walked in. She tried to close her nose.

The vampire, an attractive young man, though rather too pale for Angua's liking, sniffed delicately at the aroma of the pub, and smiled faintly. Then he caught sight of Angua.

'Bloody Mary, please,' he said smoothly. 'And don't make any jokes.'

'Wouldn't dare to,' Angua replied calmly, pouring out the liquids. She handed the glass to him, making sure that she didn't touch his hands; she could feel her hair growing as he spoke.

He downed it in one, and smiled at her whilst she served another customer.

As she turned back to him he held out a hand. 'Danil.'

'Angua,' she replied, hesitantly shaking it and trying not to breath through her nose.

He laughed. 'Relax, Angua, I've taken the pledge.'

'The what?'

'The pledge. League of Temperance - I've sworn off the red.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'The red?' she challenged him.

Disappointingly, he remained calm. 'The blood,' he replied. 'So I won't suck your blood if you don't tear my throat out.'

Angua gulped. But of course it was obvious to them, just as he was obvious to her.

'Deal,' she said, turning to another customer and taking the money. She had learned quickly not to look into their eyes.

As she poured him another drink she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as he watched her. She deposited the drink in front of him and tried to avoid his stare.

'So, where are you from?'

'Überwald.'

'No kidding. So, what are you doing here?'

'Oh, you know, this and that,' she replied ambiguously.

He raised perfectly sculpted eyebrows, but didn't question her further. 'I'm from Überwald myself.'

'Whereabouts?'

'Up in the mountains. You wouldn't know it.'

'Fair enough.'

A few more people came through the door, sat down dejectedly and brought out their own bottles. Angua had been warned about this, so didn't query them, but Danil felt the need to.

'Don't they need to buy anything?'

'Probably. But what they need is something we can't sell them.'

'I dread to think why you're working here,' he said conversationally.

Angua's throat tightened. 'You take what you're given. In my case, there wasn't much choice.'

'When do you finish?' he asked abruptly.

'At three. Why?'

'Could I meet you then?'

Angua had never been in this position before. 'Um...sure, I guess.'

'You don't sound very confident,' he said.

'What makes you say that?' She was trying to stay calm.

'Your heart rate increased.'

'Oh.'

'Don't worry, it's entirely up to you.'

Yeah, right, the tiny voice inside Angua's head said. She quashed it. 'Okay, I'll see you then.'

He downed another drink and stood up. 'Three, then?'

'Sure.'


	4. Chapter 4

The clock struck three.

Angua wiped down the bar, trying to block of her nose against the assorted smells of spilt beer, spit and depression which hung around the bar like a forsaken ghost, and glanced at the window. She expected to see the thin figure of Danil standing there, waiting for her, but instead it was just the gloomy street, lit by a few rays of sunlight.

Sunlight. Maybe he had gone into the shade.

Oh, it wasn't as if she was waiting for him or anything like that. She didn't like him, as such, but she found him interesting enough to forget about the fact that he was a damned vampire, and it was the first chance that she had gotten for an actual date.

She knew the mechanics, of course, and there had been several liaisons with her brother's friends, but she couldn't help the little flutter of excitement when she thought about actually having a boyfriend, someone to tell her that she was pretty and accept her and to do all sorts of helpful things like buying her a basket to sleep in. It would be nice, she supposed, to have someone just to be there.

She cleaned the beer pulls and kicked the chairs under the table, sweeping the floor as she went to move the last chair. Picking a crisp packet off the floor and chucking it into the bin, she blew out the light, which didn't do a thing to the room apart from making it slightly less smokey.

'Danil?' she called, closing the door behind her and bolting it until the six o'clock shift came on. Midday wasn't a good time for a pub which catered to the depressed.

There was no reply. She sighed, tied up her hair and walked around the corner. She could smell him just around it, waiting for her, probably just to keep out of the sunlight.

As she stepped forward a hand went around her neck and pressed something silver against her throat.

'Someone's very unhappy with you, Delphine,' she heard Danil say from behind her. She felt the silver creating tiny blisters as it met her skin and tried to elbow backwards, though it only hit wall.

'Someone wants you back, Delphine. And he's not going to wait long for you.'

She managed to hook one leg around his and pull him over slightly, though he sensed her movement and pushed it a bit harder into her throat.

'Because you would never suspect a vampire, would you?' He punched her back, or at least aimed to, but it glanced off her shoulder as she ducked and span around, feeling the knife bite into her as she turned but at least she was free now, even if she could feel blood tricking down her neck.

He slapped her face, hard, as she kicked him in the shins. Then he was gone and a swarm of bats was diving at her, claws outstretched and screaming.

She reacted in the only way she knew how.

She Changed, and before the world had finished spinning had caught a bat in her jaws. The rest of the bats screamed in unison, and as she swiped them with sharp claws their movements became erratic, didn't flow as well, started to flop down onto the floor.

Danil changed, and was dripping blood which made her stomach churn. Pouncing with as much energy as she could put into her worn out muscles, she pinned him down.

'Don't you everrr trrry to attack me again,' she growled, feeling her claws dig deeper into his chest. It wouldn't kill him, she knew that well enough, but it might put him off for a while.

To her surprise he was grinning. 'I'll tell them that you're alive and well,' he mocked, pushing her up and off him.

She was human again and pushing him against the back wall of the alleyway, trying to ignore the sinews behind her arm. 'You wouldn't dare,' she hissed.

'Try me.' He punched her in the stomach and she doubled up, but he was gone before she clambered up and tried to follow him. Oh, his scent hung in the air like a rainbow, but she knew exactly where he would go.

* * *

Angua walked into another dreary bar, just a street away from the one that she had just left, a pool of blood in the corner, and nodded at the barman. He poured her something which was probably illegal in most countries, but it made her head fuzzier.

Damn them, was the thought running through her head. Damn them all.

After a while, someone came over to her, pulled up a barstool and ordered her another drink. She shook her head and moved away instinctively, but he touched her arm in a friendly way.

'Relax,' he told her, handing her the glass. 'I haven't seen you in here before.'

'Just passing through,' she said, standing up. 'But I really must be going.'

'Boyfriend, is it? Protective parents?'

'I've got to go.'

'I've got a room free.'

'I've got a room.' She had a sofa in the back of the bar if she was lucky.

'Look,' he said, standing up and moving towards her. 'All I want is a drink with a pretty girl. Can't you give me that?'

She blinked tiredly and gave in. He was being nice, he was complimenting her when she knew that her eyes were shadowed and she still had dried blood around her neck, and somewhere in that little doggy brain this transmuted itself into 'Friend'.

'Fine,' she sighed, taking the glass and downing it. 'One more drink.'

* * *

It wasn't one more drink. It never is.

Somehow, she ended up back at his room, his sheets tangled around her legs and staring at the crescent moon, almost willing for it to change so that she could settle back into the numb confusion of her wolf mind. She could have changed, of course, but she'd drawn herself a line there. No changing for personal gains.

Presently, the sun burned off the fog of the night. She rolled out of bed and started to pull her clothes back on.

'You're beautiful, you know,' he said from the bed beside her.

'No,' she replied flatly, not looking at him. 'I was drunk and I was easy. Don't try any sort of flattery on me.'

The door slammed behind her as she walked out slowly, cursing her aching limbs.


	5. Chapter 5

He had kissed her cheek, and that was all she needed.

She was lying on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket as a regular drunk was using the sofa, and was lying face down to make it a little darker. The pillow smelled of must and old alcohol, but she didn't care.

One kiss, that was all.

A stupid, stupid optimist, she told herself angrily, punching the pillow and turning it over to get the cold side against her burning skin. Stupid girl. It had been good, from what she could remember in a liquor induced way, but she was sickened at the fact that she had just given up, let him do what he wanted to.

She didn't even know his name.

Well, there was no chance for sleep now. She rolled out of her blanket and stood up wearily, then walked into the bathroom to try and nick the shower before anyone else got up.

* * *

'What's got you?' a regular asked, plonking his pint glass on the bar. She filled it up before replying.

'Nothing's got me.' That was the rule. The barmaid kept silent, kept smiling, and never, ever told the customers that anything was wrong.

'I do apologise,' he leered. 'Maybe I just saw a girl who's hungover and regretting last night and doesn't want to tell a soul.'

'That'll be two dollars,' she said, keeping her voice level.

He plonked the coins down, suddenly losing interest. Who cared what the barmaid got up to?

'It's ridiculous, pricing here,' he muttered. She shrugged and turned away to clean the pumps or some other menial job which just gave her more time to think.

* * *

'Delphine?' Guye barked. Serafine sighed and gestured to the door.

'Go and get changed, you mutt,' she said unkindly, turning to Danil. 'Where is she?'

'Quirm,' he replied, wincing as the movement pulled at the bandages around his chest.

'Why would she go there?'

'Big city? People won't notice her?' Wolfgang laughed from behind them. 'Delphine's always tried to be unobtrusive.'

'Oh, forget it,' Serafine said, turning round and walking to the window. 'Let the damn girl do what she wants.'

'But mother-'

'Oh, don't start spouting all that nonsense about her making the line impure, or her betrayal to our species. She would never have done what we told her anyway.'

'I could have made her,' Wolfgang growled.

'No. Remember, _you_ always lost.'

Another growl, stronger this time, rose in the back of Wolfgang's throat and Danil laughed suddenly. 'You're reduced to this? The largest, best pedigreed werewolf clan in the country, and you're reduced to petty bickering because of a _daughter_?'

Serafine stopped pacing and turned to face him, her eyes glowing with anger. 'We are not dogs,' she spat.

Danil was undeterred. 'You wouldn't know it. And now I have other people to report to.'

Serafine watched him go.

'Fine!' she screamed, her ears lengthening. 'Don't bother coming back.'

It was such a cliched line, but it was the only one which fitted.

* * *

Angua sat on the sofa, which she had pushed the drunk off, and stared out of the window at the city floating beneath her in a sea of dense fog, which left people's heads disembodied. The grey sky was doing nothing for her.

All those people down there. The scents, the sounds, the movements of air were making her head reel, the confusion that a thousand different smells brought to her nose. Sounds from the bar below drummed through her head and the thick air made breathing more difficult, as did the smokey smell that the drunk was giving off.

She kicked him into wakefulness and his eyes opened wearily, not wanting to see the world.

'You've been here too long,' she told him, prodding him.

'Wazzit...?'

'Go on.' She rolled him over and his head banged lightly on the doorframe, which knocked some consciousness into him. He stood up shakily.

'Where can I go?' he asked.

'I don't know. It's not my problem.'

He stared at her sorrowfully, then she heard him lumbering down the stairs. She turned back to the window, free of a tiny part of the confusion.

She was lonely as well, even before the drunk had gone. People flowed in and out of the bar all day, often leaving a little slower than when they came in, but she never bothered with trying to learn their faces. She learnt smells, knew those who spelt trouble and those who preferred a silent barmaid, but smells were never quite as substantial. People walked in and out and never quite looked at her.

But that was fine, wasn't it? She had wanted to be obscure for her whole life, free of the accusatory glares and hushed whispers behind her back, and now she had got it. It was no fun, though, being alone.

She stood up and brushed her hair slowly, changed her dress like she had all the time in the world and didn't desperately need some company, any company, just so that she could feel human, and then left the room, shutting the back room door behind her.

'Where're you going, Angua?' one of the other barmaids asked.

'Out,' she said flatly.

* * *

She walked into the same bar again. The man smiled.

'Another drink?'

'Go on, then.' For the first time in ages, she actually felt happy to see someone. Oh, she shouldn't, it was stupid to return to a one night stand, everyone knew that, but she was lonely and he was there.

'I forgot to ask,' she said, sipping her drink. 'What's your name?'

'John. And you?'

'Angua.'

'That's unusual.'

She invented wildly. 'My parents had a bit of a thing about odd sounding names. My brother's called Andrei.'

'Well, my sister's called Mary. Couldn't get more ordinary, I suppose.'

She smiled ruefully. 'Your parents sound a bit more sensible than mine.'

'Where was it you said you came from?'

'The Ramtops.'

'Far away from home?' She didn't reply and he grinned. 'Fine, fine, no personal questions.'

'Sounds good to me.'

'Look, about last night...'

She shrugged. 'Just forget about it. I know I will.'

He seemed slightly perplexed, looking her up and down and at the drink in her hand. 'So why did you come back?'

And there was no real answer to that.


	6. Chapter 6

TIME FRAME UPDATE: there are about three months between this chapter and Chapter 5. I've been told that that's not really made clear, so here you go.

Enjoy :)

* * *

'When are you coming off duty?'

She flashed him a grin, incisors and all this close to full moon, and he stepped back. 'Sorry,' she said sweetly. 'I'm taken.'

'Right.' He stepped back slowly. 'I'll just go and...yeah.'

Angua sighed and turned to another customer, feeling the moon irritate her skin. She had shut all the curtains to keep it away, but still felt her skin crawl as it tried desperately to flip her morphic switch. Not tonight, though. She wouldn't let it, although she would have to creep around the sides of buildings to shield herself from the glow which pulled her towards it.

Moonlight wasn't just a trigger. It was an...invitation? A force? Whatever it was, it seemed to draw some part of her which forever longed the simplicity of being a wolf into focus and flip her body over to the easiest form. Being a wolf was undoubtably easier; no relationships, no job, no _humanity_...

But she couldn't think like that.

Anna, another maid who'd worked at the bar for so long that her face had paled, contrasting with her dark hair and eyes to make her look like a ghost, came into the bar and smiled brightly at her. 'You can go, if you want.'

She tried to smile back, but her head was spinning. 'Thanks.'

'You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

_Close enough_, the sarcasm said, but her brain quashed the impulse. 'I'm fine. Just not feeling too great.'

'Well, have a rest. I'll see you on Monday.'

Angua nodded and chucked her apron to her, then disappeared out of the back door. She could sense Anna watching her suspiciously and privately rolled her eyes.

The alleyway was deserted bar a few crates with an assortment of bugs living underneath them, and as she walked down it the moonlight, which wasn't bright enough to even create shadows, pricked the back of her neck like it was watching her, mocking her...

But that was stupid. The moon couldn't mock or watch or have anything human about it. It was a bloody great rock in the sky, but that didn't explain why she could feel her hair lengthening and her fingernails aching, claws straining to get out. She tripped over a box and blinked back into focus as someone came round the corner.

'Angua?'

She smiled and walked towards John. 'Hi.'

'Do you want to come for a drink?'

She looked up at the sky, a dusky blue with the moonlight streaming through it like a malevolent river. 'I'm sorry, I-'

'It's okay,' he said quickly. 'I mean, I'm not forcing you to or anything, I just thought it would be nice to-'

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. 'John, it's not you. I'm just not feeling too great.'

'What's the matter?'

'Oh, I don't know,' she lied, trying to stay underneath canopies as they walked through the market area. 'Just a bit under the weather.'

He nodded and took her hand, pulling her forward for a kiss. 'Do you want me to take you home?'

She wasn't looking at him, just staring past his shoulder as the building in front of her was lit up by the rising, glowing orb.

'Angua?'

She turned on her heels abruptly and started walking away. 'I'm sorry, I just need to get home.'

'Angua!'

She ducked into an alleyway and ran down it as she felt him coming towards her, his hand outstretched, and as the world span and the moon reared its head, laughing at her, tripped over and stuck her hands out, which had turned into paws, golden fur scraping along the ground.

'Angua!'

But she didn't know the name, now, in this whirling chaos which had taken over, causing her to bash into walls and blink sudden tears out of her eyes. She knew the voice in an absent way as someone that was her friend, good friend, and the tiny part of her which always stayed on two legs told her that he was more than that, which made her run faster.

He turned the corner and screamed.

She span round and barked at him, but he was backing away slowly and pointing at her. 'What...'

There was a dim part of the alley which she ducked into and changed, running out of as soon as the spinning stopped.

'John, it's me,' she called.

He was staring into the mouth of the darkness, shaking where he stood. 'What the fu-'

'John, that was me!' she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks and the cold stabbing into her legs as she stepped over gravel. 'John!'

'What the hell are you?' he spat, moving away.

'I was going to tell you.'

'What the... How the hell...?' He was pointing to her now and laughing hysterically. 'You're a werewolf? For gods' sakes, Angua!'

'John...'

'No. No no no.' He was walking backwards quickly, his hand making a figure of eight in the air. 'You can't be. That's not you. You're not a bloody wolf!'

She stared at him, eyes wide open and silent, hating herself almost as much as she hated him. She should never have trusted anyone, should never have bothered with trying to find someone to trust and to care about, because all they bloody well did was hurt you.

He reached out a hand tentatively and touched her shoulder, then shuddered. 'I slept with a bloody werewolf.' He paused and shook his head. 'Gods, you're a monster, you're a fucking monster! How the hell did you think you could do this?'

'I've never killed anyone!'

'You think that matters! For gods' sakes, you could've attacked me, could have drunk my blood-'

'That's vampires,' she said rationally, whilst the wolf part demanded that she sort this out once and for all with a quick bite to the jugular...

'You're a bloody monster!'

'I am not!' she yelled, feeling bile rise in her throat at the mere thought of it, at the thought of pulling someone down and biting at them and feeling blood pouring out of them. Monster, uncontrolled, vicious, violent, terrifying...

He was running now and she sprinted to catch up with him, but was spun backwards into a wall by his arm, which he flung outwards. 'Leave me alone!'

She stopped, trying to collect herself.

'Just go!' he screamed, turning around and staring at her. 'Just go! I don't want you, your were just good for a...' He caught himself before he said it, seeing her legs tense. 'You were great, alright? But you're a bloody werewolf!'

'Why should it matter?'

'Because it's wrong! It's just wrong!'

She turned round away from him. 'Fine. Fine.'

'Angua, I'm-'

'Don't you dare say you're sorry,' she hissed, fighting the wolf. 'Because you meant every damn word, didn't you. I'm a monster, I'm disgusting, I was only good for a shag?'

John obviously decided that now wasn't the time for flattery and didn't say anything, just turned around and walked away.

She was left alone, numb and crying, feeling the moonlight tug at her skin.

* * *

'Vhere is she?' Lady Margolotta asked, sitting up from her coffin.

'Quirm, according to our informant,' Igor said, repositioning the blankets inside the coffin for a more comfortable day's sleep. 'I know you thaid not to dithturb you, my lady, but I felt-'

'It's fine, Igor.' Lady Margolotta relaxed backwards and shifted slightly. 'Maybe she'll be happy there.'


	7. Chapter 7

She had stayed in Quirm, after that. She didn't really want to, knowing that there was someone out there who knew and he could tell anyone, and probably had, but she didn't quite have enough money to get a coach to somewhere else. Her boots were falling to bits, too; midnight wanders had taken their toll, but she couldn't afford to buy another pair of decent ones.

John wasn't coming back to the bar, though. She had looked in through the dark tinted windows of the place she had met him and seen him alone, gulping down whiskey like there was no tomorrow.

The wolf part told her she should be loyal to a friend.

The human part, which Angua preferred, said that he got what was bloody well coming for him. It was the human part which made her keep walking.

She walked a lot around the empty streets, feet beating out a rhythm on the irregular cobbles. Twenty four hour shops glowed with a faint, greasy light down back alleys, thieves crept around and ducked away from her, the bright red of the women's dresses as they looked for customers among the excitable crowds of young men and sailors. She'd learnt the hard way not to wear bright colours, but at least that man wouldn't be bothering any more women for a while.

Then, eventually, they all disappeared into dark rooms lit by red lights, or back into the little houses pristinely painted, or into yet more bars where they finally crashed onto the sodden sawdust on the floor, and she kept walking on. Breath crystallising in front of her and the cold creeping through her thin tights and dresses, helpfully lightweight, she would wander through the whole of Quirm, seeing everything.

There was a hill just widdershins of the centre which she went to quite a lot. Below her, the city's lights blended together to make a sea of wavering dots, the houses glowed faintly, but the area around her bar was pitch black. Light didn't escape from there. The river wound, silver in the crescent moon, about half a mile away, a silent stream which was occasionally broken by the triangular shape of a ship leaving the docks, or arriving from Pseudopolis or Ankh-Morpork, one of the city states. She could jump on one of them and be out of the city by the time the light washed over the horizon, but for some reason she didn't want to.

And each night, after staring numbly out at the horizon, she would stand up, massage some life into her stiff limbs and walk back down to the bar ready for the morning shift.

* * *

Something was...odd.

People seemed to be treating her with a little more caution, on edge all of the time. Whispers hushed as she walked past, people were less willing to let her leave early if they were already in. There was an atmosphere of expectation which grew whenever she was there.

One day, she just confronted it. Walked into the back room, where there was a huddle of barmaids, and said 'Yes?'

They jumped apart and most stared at the ceiling or the floor, apart from Lil, who was a bit slow and had an inclination to mix up her cocktails with disastrous consequences, and Anna, who was giving her an incredibly suspicious look. Even more suspicious than usual, though that was just her way.

A bunch of oddballs, Angua thought.

'Well?' she asked firmly.

'There've been rumours, Angua,' Anna started, then fell silent as Angua's glare deepened.

'What sort?' she said, trying to keep her voice level.

'That you're not...quite what you seem.' This was said with difficulty, as Anna's tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

'So what did I seem?'

'You know, normal...'

'And what am I?'

Lil looked at her blankly, but that was just normal. What wasn't normal was the faint glimmer of fear.

'An undead,' she said slowly.

Angua breathed, once, twice, three times, until her head stopped screaming.

'Why do you say that?' she asked levelly, then realised that was probably the worst thing to say.

'There're rumours,' Lil said. Anna rolled her eyes slightly, but Angua turned to her.

'And you? Do you think this?'

'Well, you're a bit...odd. Too enclosed.'

'Haven't you ever heard of introverts?'

'And you know words like introvert,' Anna went on, whilst Angua's mind cursed her. 'You aren't from round here.'

'Are you?'

'No, but I tell people.'

'No one's from round here in this pub,' Angua said reasonably. 'If they were, they'd be somewhere else.'

'Someone's been spreading rumours, Angua. And that's not good for business.'

'What do you care about business?'

Anna glared at her, raking her up and down with her eyes as if she could tear the truth out of her. 'And there have been people going missing round here.'

'I've never killed anyone!'

'You've got no proof of that.'

'I even pay for the bloody chickens!' Angua screamed, then shut her mouth abruptly. Anna was watching her carefully.

'You used to have a thing for John across the road, didn't you?'

'What does that have to do with it?' Oh gods, don't mention his name.

'Because he's the one who told us.' Anna looked at her with something approaching sympathy. 'The rest of you, get out now.'

There was a muttering, but the girls gradually filed out, trying to keep as far away from her as they could. And that hurt. That really hurt.

Anna turned back to her. 'I'd get out now, Angua, because if there's anything that happens it'll turn back to you.'

'It's not what you think it is...' Angua trailed off, not even sure what Anna thought.

'You're not a monster, no, and I know those who are.'

'How?'

'I've worked here for years. Please, I've seen 'em all around here. It never ends well, either; eventually they're found out.'

She stayed silent, her heart pounding.

'I'm giving you a chance, Angua, if that's your real name. Take it and run.'

'It's my name,' Angua said dully.

'Well, at least there's something you haven't lied to us about,' Anna said bitterly, then rubbed her eyes. 'Sorry, that came out wrong. Just go, Angua. I'll sort out the mess if you want me to, make sure it doesn't leave here.'

'Why would you do this for me?'

Anna smiled wryly. 'Ever considered that you're not the only one whose had to run from something?' Her eyes glazed over in some memory. 'He was a beautiful child... Just trust me. Please.'

'You'll give me time to get my stuff, I suppose.'

'Of course. And your wage packet's in the till, he gave them out early.'

She walked out, leaving Angua in the room alone.

Slowly, she walked up the stairs, picked up her bag, and slammed the door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

One

Foot

In

Front

Of

The

Other.

Walking again, settling into a rhythm and carrying on for hours on end until she could see in front of her for the darkness. The scenery all merged into one greenish blob with the sleet and the sheer exhaustion which was all that was powering her, turning her vision into a maze of strobe lights, zigzagging away from her as quickly as they appeared, making her head spin.

One

Step

One

Step

One-

The countryside, it seemed, was no different from when she had left Uberwald a couple of months ago. It was colder here - she could feel the wet slush which carpeted the path creeping into her thin boots and causing cold to stiffen her feet, but there were still mountains and fields and acres and acres and even more acres of cabbages which made up most of the plains from here to back home. Not even the best of poets could have found inspiration here.

Not back home, she told herself. Back there. Not back home.

It suited Angua down to the ground, thought, this endless monotony of the landscape and her footsteps. Her mind went blank, free of the curses which inhabited it.

One

Step.

A day later she was walking through the crumbling stone gates of Pseudopolis, just another nameless, blameless face in the crowd.

* * *

A person - well, using the term lightly - with a more particular sense of the word 'house' or even just 'accommodation' would have shied well away from the grubby house at the end of one of Pseudopolis's alleyways, nicknamed 'The Dirt' by people with less sense of humour than a clown, but Angua really didn't care anymore. Someone in a pub had recommended it to her after finding her naked in the cellar as she tried to get to sleep in the moonlight. Recommended under duress, maybe, as he didn't bother to even ask 'Please?' and was now reaping the benefits of it, but at least there was somewhere you could go if you weren't too normal.

She knocked on the door, which exuded dust.

'Hello?' she called.

'There's no one in,' said a small voice, and Angua rolled her eyes.

'I'll just have to come back tomorrow then, shall I?'

''es.'

'And you're _sure_ you can't let me in?'

She could sense the voice frown. 'How did ya find us?'

'Special talents,' she said wryly, then leant against the doorframe.

There was a sniffing sound and the door opened a fraction. An eye looked her up and down.

'Waddya want, wolfie?' The eye leered.

'Just a room.'

'We don't serve to the likes of _you_.'

'Then why can I smell a vampire, a dwarf*, a bogeyman, a ghoul and…a _banshee_? Not being speciesist, are we?'

The eye looked up, alarmed. 'No one ever said they were a banshee!'

A scrap of paper floated down from the sky and they both fell silent, listening to it land on the floor. Angua picked it up first and looked at the scribble.

'OOOOeeeOOeeeeOOOOee,' she read, with difficulty, then turned back to the eye. 'What's this?'

'Oh, that's just Ixolite's way. He lives next door. No one's going to die, we think, but one arrives about three every afternoon. We think he gets lonely.'

Angua shrugged, well accustomed to the odd. 'Look, have you got a room or not?'

'No women-'

'Excuse me!'

'Fine, fine. No _men_ after ten pee em, no cookin', no pets-' Angua raised her eyebrows, but he continued, 'three dollars a month. You'll get the smallest room, since you're new.'

'How considerate.'

'Dinner's at seven. Bathroom's on the second floor.'

'Um…can I come in, then?'

The eye narrowed as it glared at her. 'You'll have to come round the back.'

* * *

*It took the conservative society of Pseudopolis a little longer to adapt, or perhaps the dwarfs in question were less obstreperous than the sort you found in Ankh-Morpork and didn't tend towards hacking people who stood in their way of citizenship off at the knees.

* * *

Angua lay in the bath, which smelled unpleasantly of vampire and cheap aftershave, presumably the ghoul's, and stared at her toes which were starting to wrinkle. The bath water cooled around her until she felt her skin start to form goosebumps.

Here we are again, she thought. Alone again. What a surprise.

Someone knocked on the door and she stood up slowly, wincing as pressure was put onto her tired feet.

'Don't come in,' she called, wrapping a towel around herself and picking up her clothes, grimy and dirty from walking for miles, up off the floor. She sighed as she realised that they had been drenched by a leak in the rubber seal which had rotted into grains and tried to wring them out over the sink, wondering if this constituted washing them, before opening the door, keeping her head down. It didn't do to look too hard.

'Sorry,' she muttered, walking past quickly.

She slammed the door behind her and stared out of the window, which looked out over Pseudopolis, glowing red from the lamps. The view would have probably been lovely if there hadn't of been a solid brick building blocking most of it, and then the faint shimmer from behind it. The moon lifted a hand and flashed a two fingered salute at her, or it might well have done.

Damn the moon. Only a day left, and although she could survive by chasing chickens most of the time she wasn't sure how well the city would go down.

Still, one day. Give her time to settle down, as much as unpacking her bag and hanging her coat on the back of the door was settling down, but at least she had somewhere she could call home. Or room, if necessary.

She pulled on some article of clothing which looked less scrunched up than the others and headed downstairs, wrapping a towel around her head as she went.

* * *

'So, Angua, which clan are you from?'

She hadn't expected there to be another werewolf in the lodging house. True, they were as not-normal as anyone else, but she had never actually come across any from any other clan than her own.

She didn't need to answer, though; the wolf man sniffed and smiled grimly. 'Long way from home, eh? Well, don't worry. We all are here.'

'Looks like it,' she said without thinking, but he only laughed.

'Don't worry. You'll settle right in.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry about the delay, I was very busy with results/work etc, so this had to be put on hold for a little while. Still, here you go. Don't say I never give you anything.**

**Thanks go to the following:**

**OldStoneface - thanks for the reviews, we have discussed the issues and I've corrected the typo.**

**Goonlalagoon - thanks for reviews, again, and for being very good at predicting what I'm going to write next**

**Emmy MacRieve - again, another Angua fan. You're right, she's pretty awesome.**

**krikanalo - thanks for the reviews :)**

**MJ MOD - again, thanks for the reviews :)**

**Oh, and I should probably make a disclaimer. Characters aren't mine, some of the jokes aren't either, but the rest is property of my weird, insane mind.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

There was, Angua found out, a specific hierarchy when it came to wizarding society, which was not one that she had before encountered. That was before she found a job as a junior day maid at Brazeneck College, so chosen, apparently, because she was blonde, thin and taller than four foot nine. She took it as a compliment.

There was the Night Kitchen, run by a skinny woman with arms like wires and hands with skin like leather. Angua didn't work there, nights being a problem (the people in the kitchens had been surprisingly understanding about that), but had heard terrifying rumours about her and the head chef.

Then there was the Day Kitchen, one step up just because they didn't use as much of their budget on cheap candles. They prepared the banquets, which were said to rival even those at Ankh-Morpork's Universities, with fourteen courses and _then_ cheese, biscuits and condiments, and also worked with the Carts. There was a young Morporkian wizard with a stupid name who'd brought that idea to the not overly exercised minds of the wizards, and now they had to have a load of rickety structures which could barely support the weight of food upon them.

Then there were the servers and the maids who did work apart from cooking. That was her, because the smell of the kitchens was like a nasal headache, and it was her job to cart carts around, serve plates, pick the plates back up, try not to touch the silver cutlery, take back the silver cutlery from people who thought that it was going spare*, and report back to the ferocious Senior Maid every evening.

She enjoyed the work, though, in the sense that it was monotonous, not very taxing, and only happened in a few hours of the day. The rest of the time she helped out somewhere else or disappeared for an hour or two. Another thing that she had learnt was that however new a college was, Brazeneck still being at the stage where its modernity was something it could brag about, there would always be a student entrance.

The wizards themselves didn't so much rank in the hierarchy as get in the way of it. Oh, everyone was aware that they were up there somewhere, messing about with the structure of the universe and using long, polysyllabic words which would make mere 'polysyllabic' fade into insignificance, but they weren't quite important enough to be worthy of a thought. They cooked food and served food, who to didn't matter. There were rumours that they were creating something called a QBT, though no one seemed to know what it meant and even fewer seemed to care about it. Still, they had one useful attribute, and that was the creation of student entrances.

She nipped out of a helpful hole in the wall just behind the shed, full of things like shovels which the wizards wouldn't touch with a barge pole**, and brushed out her skirt before nodding to one of the student wizards like she was allowed to go out that way. The smile helped.

Then she walked.

There was a nice shop just ten minutes away from the college, down a side alleyway which the Watch wouldn't dare enter if they liked their heads where they were, which, from what she knew of watchmen, featured higher on their list than whether the criminal was caught. The owner, an elderly woman who wore lots of shawls and tended to cackle on occasion, would chat to her about this and that then give her a prescription for her hardpad, which she had caught when walking. She spent a bit of time there every day, if she could get out, just to give the woman a bit of company and business, even if she did try to refuse payment every time.

'Thing is,' she had whispered to Angua the last time she had visited, 'if I suddenly started to come into a lot of money all of a sudden, the Watch'd be down on me like a ton of…stones. Y'see? They'd be down 'ere with their _revenue _and their forms, an' I ain't so good at the letters.'

Angua nodded.

'So you just keep your money to yerself, love. Treat yourself.'

She never treated herself, though. She was saving up.

Under her bed there was a cardboard suitcase, filled with a small amount of money. Not much so far, her wages didn't stretch too much, but it was gradually increasing. When she had enough, she would go to the big city.

The streets were paved with gold in Ankh-Morpork, they said. Once upon a time Angua might have been inclined to believe them, up in the mountains where the concept of roads was a hard to grasp one, but now the only thing that she could think of that might pave Ankh-Morpork's streets was a dispiriting brown.

She talked to some of the other maids about it.

'Ankh-Morpork?' they chorused. Maids had a way of doing that.

'Yes,' she said, perturbed. 'What?'

'Well, of course-' one of them began. Angua had a feeling that her name was Mary.

'It's a bit grotty…' another Exchangeable Mary said hesitantly.

And so Angua had come to learn another thing about Pseudopolis. The people there, she presumed from having a fairly upper-class culture and a genteel approach to, well, everything, were all snobs.

'And?' she asked. 'Haven't you ever been down to the port?'

One sniffed genteelly. 'Well, of course not.'

Damn prestige.

But she was still saving up. Of course, looking at a map she discovered that the quickest way to get there would be to go back through Quirm, but that wasn't on her immediate list of things to do. Getting money was. Get the money, and everything else would be fine.

* * *

*Or at least glare at them very hard until they did. She wasn't suicidal.

**Had they known how to use one.


End file.
